The Last Requiem of Our Love
by ktea809
Summary: How can there be peace when wounds are not mended? When much resentment and bitterness linger in the air? This tale is set in the post-war years; it is a celebration of a Dramione romance in a world that refuses to heal simply because it loves to hate.
1. Prologue

"_Till now, I always got by on my own,_

_I never really cared until I met you._

_And now it chills me to the bone,_

_How do I get you alone?"_

_- Alone Again (Alyssa Reid)_

**PROLOGUE**

Magical animated photos of us surrounded me in what used to be called 'our' room. I am much too old to swoon over from his grins or his smiles. But there is this one picture that has never failed to remind me of our love. My courage falters when he looks at the camera as his smirks turns into a genuine smile in his wedding suit, unaware of what his stare does to the one who loves him, who truly knows him.

Oh, it was so long ago when we stood before the altar to proclaim to the world that our love was true. Before I can defend myself, that certain piece of memory grabs me by the hand and forces me to travel upon the road that has been trodden on so many times…

"_Where's your Gryffindor courage?" He whispered and smirked at me when he lifted up my veil. I was a nervous wreck before the spectators, but when I reminded myself of the reason why I was doing this and who I will be with from today and forever… I smiled at him through the tears. _

"_I am ready for your kiss now, my little bouncy ferret." Before my smirk can reach its pinnacle, he dived down to kiss me. _

"Grandma, you ready yet?" The knock on the door made me drop the photo on the bed. I do wonder where my courage is sometimes or maybe old age does make one meek.

"Yes honey, I will be with you in just a minute."

Liar, my mind mocks my words.

In truth, I will never be ready for his departure from this world, let alone participate in his funeral. And just like any other day, tears well up in my eyes for the umpteenth time as our photos become blurred shadows.

Fifty years of marriage has been written off with the death of a beloved partner and husband.

The memory of a wedding that seems to have only happened yesterday is eternally marred by death—a force more evil than Voldemort himself.

All the tears that were shed in our battle against all the insults and jeers that the world has thrown against us amounted to nothing against the last moments of his life.

Adjusting my funeral apparel, I slowly open the door and take my granddaughter's small hand.

"_I'll be right beside you dear…"_ I know it is only a product of my heart's imagination, but even for just one minute, the remembrance of Draco Malfoy's whisper has comforted my sorrowful soul.

This voyage upon my age-old memories will be a requiem for my childhood enemy, my best friend, my husband, and my love… my Draco.


	2. Chapter 1

"_You say you're not gonna fight cause no one will fight for you_

_And you think there's not enough love and no one to give it to_

_And you're sure you've hurt for so long you've got nothing left to lose_

_So you say you're not gonna fight cause no one will fight for you_

_You say the weight of the world has kept you from letting go_

_And you think compassion's a flaw and you'll never let it show_

_And you're sure you've hurt in a way that no one will ever know_

_But some day the weight of the world will give you the strength to go"_

_- Robot Boy (Linkin Park)_

**CHAPTER 1**

How do I begin the tale of my youth?

How do I explain or give a reason to my love for Draco Malfoy without being labeled a traitor to the 'noble cause' after the war?

Perhaps it is best to start from the era known as 'Peace and Rebuilding'.

I scoff at the idea. So much for peace. Just a mere week after the defeat of Voldemort, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and I were hailed by _Daily Prophets _and every wizard newspaper and magazine as the 'Golden Trio' or the 'Brilliant Trio'. Aurors and publicists hunted us down like wolves to rebuild the broken country and to conduct interviews respectively. While Ron basked in the attention, Harry and I sought for privacy as we decorated our houses with every known charm against the media. Perhaps that was the first of the many devastating strains that have ended our friendship.

"_Come on, Hermione! PLEASE!" Ron followed me like a lost puppy around my house. If the topic was not about being probed by the notorious Rita Skeeter, I would have laughed._

"_Ronald Weasley, how many times do I have to tell you?" I whirred around to face him. _

"_I do not want the attention; I just want to do my best to punish the wrong, but not the innocent in the dawning of this new age. Why else would I have studied so hard in the magic law? I hope to set things right and just in the Ministry!" I shook my head at my red-haired boyfriend. "If you still remember, your brother Fred died and I very much doubt he died for your P.R.!" _

_I knew that was below the belt, but weeks of Ronald's whines could bring out the worst in people._

"_I really thought you of all people would have supported me in my cause against the Deathblood! You call yourself just? You are a traitor to what the Golden Trio stands for!" Ron roared at me before he Apparated himself out of my house in Muggle London. _

The term 'Deathblood' has replaced 'Mudblood' in the new era. The derogatory vocabulary depicts the purebloods that were associated with Voldemort or related to his followers the Death Eaters. Ronald Weasley has become the new leader of this noble cause to destroy and wreak havoc against these Deathbloods. It really isn't hard to fathom on the impressive size of his followers.

Therefore, any notion of peace is a lie. The aftershock of the battle begets a new war.

The fickle-hearted Ministry radically changes sides immediately after the declaration of the victory against Voldemort. Anti-Harry Potter and Mudblood propaganda is replaced by wanted posters of Deathblood. Family trees of Malfoy and Black are the first to be examined by this new group of radicals.

The interrogation and trial of Draco Malfoy hurls my volatile relationship with Ron in the direction of anger and resentment.

_Solemn and gaunt with his hands tied behind him in Muggle chains as an act of insult to his blood, the boy who has become a living nightmare since year one at Hogwarts stared at me with his hollow eyes, void of emotions. His legs and waist were also tied to the wooden chair in the interrogation chamber._

"_How have you been doing?" Before I could kick myself for being stupid, Draco sneered at me._

"_And how do I owe the pleasure of your visit of my little humble home, Granger?" _

_Once a git, always a git, I thought to myself. I exhaled the breath I didn't realize I was holding before making the decision to cut all pleasantries and hit him with the news. _

"_Just thought you should know that Narcissa is dead." _

"_Oh." There was__n__o other reaction beside the tiniest spark of emotion in Draco's grey eyes. _

"_Is that the best you can say, Malfoy? She is—was—your mother!" I screeched at him. Draco's mother was found dead earlier this morning, an hour before her execution. It was believed that she had performed a wandless curse of Avada Kedavra upon herself. The cells had prohibited all magic to protect the guards, but the Ministry has failed to foresee one is willing or able to perform such a curse to escape the scrutiny of the Magical Law._

"_How the hell do you want me to react? In tears? Sob in front of you, a Mud—muggle? You absolutely have no fucking idea how much I owe her with my life. I tried but failed to protect my mother during the war. I failed her once again after the war when I failed in hiding her properly. I failed in becoming a Deatheater because I wished for Voldemort's death for what he did to my family and I__.__ I failed in trying to do the so-called "right" things when I became a coward before the Dark Lord. My life is set upon fucking failure! And now that I am waiting for my trial, I am scared shitless because no matter what I say, the mark on my arm will forever declare otherwise. Is that what you want to hear, O Brilliant Granger?" Draco spitted out before he set his head upon his hands, suddenly more exhausted than when he first appeared._

"_You have a way out of this, Draco." I whispered, breaking the minutes of silence. "Harry and I decided to stand for your defence in the trial tomorrow. That's the reason for my visit. This is a way for us to thank you for pretending to not recognize Harry or Ron and I back in the Manor." _

"_If you think I did it for the fantastic Golden Trio, you should think otherwise. I spite your sympathy. Why don't you just leave me alone and let me die in peace?"_

"_Stop being such an arrogant brat! If you think this is all about you, YOU should think otherwise. Do you honestly think your death will bring peace and everything will be fine right after? Voldemort is dead, but much more innocent blood will be shed in this new age! This is your chance to wash your hands clean of all association with Death Eaters and begin anew! Let Harry and I help you!" If someone were to even suggest that I will almost beg Draco Malfoy to allow me to help him before the war, I probably would have hexed them to St. Mungo's Hospital, regardless of the consequences. But here I am, a Gryffindor in the dark cold dungeon associating with a Slytherin and begging him to see things my way. _

"_What will Weasel say about this set-up?"_

"_Ron doesn't know anything. Again, Harry and I are doing what we believe are right." And for the greater good, my mind mimicked the deceased professor. _

"_Guards! I am tired of this bullshit." The Guards gathered Malfoy's chains to take him away._

"_You will agree to what we have talked about, right?" I pleaded._

_Turning to look at me one last time before tomorrow, Draco Malfoy locked his eyes with mine. "You know, Granger, I may have tortured you in school, resented you and exercised all forms of insults on your blood, but never had I hated you. Never. Slytherins are just awfully good in protecting ourselves." _

_Before I could even begin to decipher the philosophy of his words, Draco turned away and headed back to his refuge that sheltered him from men who thirsted for every drop of his Malfoy blood. _


	3. Chapter 2

"_Put to rest_

_What you thought of me_

_While I've cleaned this slate with the hands of uncertainty_

_So let mercy come and wash away_

_What I've done_

_I'll face myself_

_To cross out what I've become_

_Erase myself and let go of what I've done"_

_- What I've Done (Linkin Park)_

**CHAPTER 2**

Chaos.

Hexes.

Almost curses.

Shouts of damnation rung around the court.

Years have gone by and I still shudder at the thought of Draco's trial in Wizengamot that day. The court's set-up is different than the one that Harry had experienced. It is no longer private, but onlookers are allowed to participate and eyewitnesses are also allowed to persecute or defend.

"_KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! USE THE UNFORGIVABLES ON HIM!" Roared the mob that was otherwise known as the Deathblood Hunters. _

"_THIS IS WHAT HIS PEOPLE DID TO MY MOTHER!" A girl in her teens held up a photo of a screeching battered looking woman, wounded from the obvious sign of the Crucio curse. _

_The Judge held his hand to silence__the maddening crowd. The girl draped a black velvet cloth over the animated photo to quiet it down. _

"_May the defendant please rise with his representatives, Hermione Jean Granger and Harry James Potter?" Inquired the recorder. _

_A silence so thick that it could have been penetrated by a knife settled upon the court before hushed whispers shattered the atmosphere that was filled with much hatred. _

"_WHAT THE FLIPPING HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?" A yell has risen above the murmurs. I whipped my head around and saw, standing in the back roll, Ronald Weasley's face as it turned redder than his hair. _

_Ignoring him, I recited the magic declaration out loud. "I, Hermione Jean Granger vow to defend my client, Draco Malfoy from crimes he is innocent of before the congregation of Wizengamot and the nation. I vow to defend for his name and honor under the law that is set before us centuries past." _

_When it was Harry's turn, a frustrated confusion stunned the crowd to silence._

_The silence was not a permanent element that day. As soon as the Judge opened his mouth, photos of the Death Eaters' victims were raised high above the heads of the mob. _

"_Draco Malfoy," began the Judge._

"_Your Honour." Draco returned. His posture was one that I remembered from school. With his back straight and determined grey eyes upon the Judge, he was poised with confidence. The black prison garb did nothing to diminish the aristocratic Malfoy air. I almost believed the conversation exchanged between Draco and I yesterday was merely a twisted piece of my imagination. _

"_You were found to be in hiding with Narcissa Malfoy by Pansy Parkinson. Correct?"_

_Draco nodded._

"_Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange were well-known Death Eaters, particularly loyal to Voldemort's cause. Correct?"_

_He nodded again._

"_If you were not a Deatheater, what do you have to be afraid of after the war? Why would you need to hide away from Aurors? Why didn't you try to remove the mark on your forearm?" The Judge jeered. _

"_Your honor, that is a rather unfair question." I spoke up. "After Voldemort's demise, there were countless Death Eaters who attempted to remove the mark. Draco is not a Deatheater. Why would he feel the need to remove it when he knows he has nothing to be guilty of since the mark is only permanent upon those who are the true servants of Voldemort's?" _

"_Your honor! I was a victim in the Manor!" Again, Ron spoke up from the back. _

"_Yes Mr. Weasley, go ahead." _

_Encouraged by the Judge, Ron looked at me with a sneer that matched the Malfoys' infamous expression. "On that night, Draco was an ally to the female Lestrange and his parents. Harry, Hermione and I were held and tortured against our will by the mentioned. This younger Malfoy may not have laid a finger on us, but he," Ron's sneer grew wider as he pointed at the lanky blonde prisoner, "he threatened to kill us on more than one occasion! How would he be any different from his murderous aunt and parents who taught him to condemn us, all Mudbloods and Blood traitors in their eyes? It's just in his blood to hate!" _

_Ron's accusation may have been simple and could easily be ripped apart by any learned defence attorney, but he succeeded in evoking the raw emotions of the mob. _

"_As Ron has declared, Draco threatened us, but he never used magic on us!" My voice carried around the room. "Draco and I were never friends nor acquaintances, but I will never forget that day in the Manor for it was on that day that he has proven himself to be different from his Deatheater family. Draco was very much afraid and was full of reluctance to commit to his family's bidding. I was not in any disguise nor did I have the time to charm myself to look any different and having been to Hogwarts together for close to seven years, it would be impossible for Draco to not recognize me. But on that day, his responses to his family's questions were ambiguous at best and physically separated himself from their torturous activities. I can tell you this," I looked at the Judge and around the court. "If I were in Draco Malfoy's shoes, I do not see a reason to protect my childhood enemies and in a heartbeat, I would have finished off all those who were meaningless to my family. But again, Draco did not and suffered from Bellatrix's insults for his action. Draco risked his life for his refusal to kill and was punishable by Voldemort himself." _

"_He didn't protect you!" Ron screeched._

"_How could he?" Harry injected. "Bellatrix was capable of anything. Draco was afraid and was threatened by death constantly. If you were in Malfoy's shoes, Ron, would you have protected Hermione, one you did not see eye to eye with?"_

"_O-of course I would!" Ron stuttered. He was never a good liar and was always too honest for his own good._

"_I was sixteen when I became a Death Eater." Draco's declaration successfully shut Ron up and stunned him to his seat. "I will admit before all of you that I was not coerced into forging an allegiance with Voldemort but I regret this foolish act every single moment of my life. My decision is proven to have ultimately killed my mother." The murmur around the court had risen to a full crescendo of curses and hexes that were directed to Draco. Fortunately, the court was a no-magic zone and wands were collected at the entrance of the court, thus spells became meaningless words. _

"_I thought I would be rewarded with power if I bore the pain of receiving the dark mark. I thought my wildest ambitions would be fulfilled by this dark alliance. I thought it was only natural for me to receive the cursed mark because I was a Malfoy. I was also foolish enough to believe that if I had murder in Voldemort's name, even my father would be subservient to me. But I thought wrong. In my stupidity, I believed that upon receiving the dark mark, my courage would be far superior to those of the Gryffindor; I would be far wiser than the Ravenclaw; far more patient in awaiting for my moment to rule than the patient Hufflepuff; and the Slytherins would look to me as the leader, second only to Voldemort. Just a few minutes of bearing the dark mark was enough for Voldemort to control my whole life. A few more hours with the dark mark was enough for him to command me to kill a man who just dreamed of serving the greater good. I can see how my childish ambitions have caused pain and toils to the innocent. I do and will not make any attempt in making excuses for my actions, but I ask of one thing and that is for you to believe me when I say this—I called myself a Deatheater for I was bought into Voldemort's guile and false promises, but that is not my identity. If death is fitting for my heinous crimes, I wish to pass on simply as Draco Malfoy, someone who was unfortunately misguided by his naivety," his stormy grey eyes captured the Judge's, "but may I dare to wish that one day I will not be remembered as a Deatheater." Draco sat down and Wizengamot was never as silent than at that moment, before or after. _

For the rest of the proceeding, the mood was grave and the mob lost much of the passion. I suppose it must have been Draco's speech—after all, it is not often that one declares himself a Deatheater at his own trial. There is so much honesty however, that the victims of the Second War were less angry.

Draco escaped death that day, but was condemned to much hatred for walking free. He disappeared soon after his Manor was burned down. There were many hateful and a few sympathetic rumours about his whereabouts. Those who love conspiracies declared that it really was 'The Deatheater Malfoy' who demolished the historic artifact, but all have failed to locate Draco.

I smiled ruefully at the memory in the Muggle hearse that was destined for my husband's funeral. I must admit I was curious like the rest of the witches and wizards and annoyed Draco many times about his disappearance when we were very much in love. He remained mysterious and would only smile and shake his head when asked. It was only in the final years of my husband's life that he shed _some _light upon the age-old mystery.

More tears fell from my eyes. I miss Draco. I miss every single cell of his body—his arrogance and his charm; his generous love to me and his cunningness to men who have opposed him.

It wasn't till much later that I realized his stance against the new form of prejudices that had settled in these post-war years was not his last, but only the beginning of a long war for the both of us.

It was much later that I realized that Draco Malfoy would and had used his every breath to love and protect me in this uncaring world.


End file.
